Walking down the hall towards her orientation tour were two of the most strikingly WRONG people when she thought of 'good student material'. The pregnant one was much more obvious...a pregnant student! She wouldn't have it! Her belly poked out obviously from under the hem of the pink t-shirt she wore. Scandalous! Her shorts were also most definitely not up to par with dress code - they were little more than a denim belt.
The prospective student next to her wasn't pregnant...or, at least, wasn't showing yet. She wore an olive-green tank top (Dress code violation! her brain howled again) and denim shorts (which at least appeared to be dress code compliant, to Angela's eye). To top it off, she wore big, heavy-looking boots (She can kick people! her mind pointed out) and her hair was cut short and swept back into a ponytail. A pair of glasses with big, round frames finished the look.
She abandoned the group of new students and marched up to meet them before they could contaminate her school with their presence anymore. "Office! Now!" she said through gritted teeth.
Glasses turned to Pregnant. "How 'bout that, Quinn. I din't even have to break anyone's arm."
"You're gettin' better, cuz," Pregnant complimented.
Angela pointed the way to the office, the insubordination causing her blood to boil. She didn't trust herself to speak.
The two turned and proceeded along the direction Ms. Li indicated. She noticed that Glasses' shorts had the words 'Kiss My Ass!' embroidered upon the seat. She began unconsciously grinding her teeth.
XXXX
Daria and Quinn didn't have long to wait until Ms. Li made her way back to the office and sat behind her desk. She touched her fingertips together in a pyramid shape as her glance darted between the two of them. Finally, she spoke.
"You received copies of the school handbook when you enrolled, so you should have been aware of this school's dress code policies." She pointed to Quinn first. "No belly-bearing shirts. No exceptions. Shorts are to extend below the fingertips when the arm is at rest. No exceptions."
She pointed to Daria. "All shirts are to have sleeves which cover up to at least six inches below the elbow. Profanity is to not be displayed upon clothing or any accessories."
Her hands returned to the pyramid shape. "Being that this is your first day, I'm willing to be extremely generous and not hit you with two suspensions apiece right off the bat. Know that future dress code violations will not be tolerated, and you will be disciplined accordingly." She began to address Quinn. "How old are you, young lady?"
Quinn smirked at being called a lady. "Fourteen."
Ms. Li sneered. "To be pregnant at your age..." Daria scowled. "You will be placed on probation due to your condition. If your presence in the classroom proves to be disruptive, you will be placed into the alternative education cirriculum."
"You mean where they put the retards?" Quinn said, indignant.
Li went on, ignoring the outburst. "If you engage in any...disruptive behavior yourself, you will be expelled." She gestured at Daria. "That goes for you too."
Daria nodded, not trusting herself to speak or act. (Assaulting an adult with intent to kill might get her tried as an adult).
"Report to Dr. Manson's for your mandatory psychological test," Ms. Li concluded, snorting before saying 'psychological'. She turned away, dismissing them.
When the door closed behind them, Quinn was the first to speak. "What do you suppose she meant by disruptive behavior?" Quinn asked rhetorically.
"Fuckin'," Daria answered. It was her policy to always answer rhetorical questions. "Well, let's go see the shrink."
XXXX
Dr. Manson looked a little taken aback at the sight of the two girls as they entered her office. She shook off the nerves, though, and after introducing herself, jumped right into the testing.
She held up a silhouette picture. "Quinn, what do you see here in this picture?"
"Two people talkin'," Quinn observed.
"That's right. Can you make up a little story about what it is they're saying?"
Quinn considered for a minute. "Well, that feller there is talkin' about how he wants to write some book about some buddin' woman-child or somethin', and the old man she falls in love with, an' when the woman tells him he done knocked her up, he don't show up at the school anymore."
"I...see..." Dr. Manson began hurriedly scribbling notes onto a legal pad that sat on her desk. She swallowed anxiously before turning to Daria. "Uh...Daria...what do you see in the picture?"
"A herd of beautiful wild ponies runnin' free across the plains."
Dr. Manson was struck silent for a moment before her brain managed to think of an answer "Uh, there aren't any ponies. It's two people."
"Well, last time I took one of them there tests, the shrink told me it could be whatever I damn well liked."
Dr. Manson shook her head. "That's a different test, dear. In this test, they're people, and you tell me what they're discussing.
Daria nodded. "Well, in that case, that woman there is telling the worthless piece of shit that done knocked her sister up that if he don't git, she'll nail his worthless ass to the ground and rile up a herd of beautiful wild ponies and have them run free across his plains."
Dr. Manson blinked several times, then began filling up the rest of the page of the legal pad with notes. When she reached the bottom of the page, she flipped it and began working on the next page. Daria smiled.
XXXX
After being dismissed from Dr. Manson's office, Daria and Quinn split up. Daria's class was History with DeMartino. She found her way to the classroom easily enough and took the nearest seat.
After the tardy bell rang, Mr. DeMartino introduced Daria. "Class, we have a new STUDENT joining us today. Please welcome Daria Morgan. Daria, raise your hand, please."
Daria stared listlessly at the teacher, not bothering to raise her hand. Mr. DeMartino narrowed his eyes.
"...Daria, last week, we began a unit on westward expansion. Perhaps you feel it's UNFAIR to be asked a question on your first day of class."
"Go fuckin' nuts."
The other students in the class gasped a little at the profanity, but DeMartino just chuckled. He got a little thrill out of humiliating students with their ignorance...at least, until they grew indifferent to their own humiliation, at which point it just made DeMartino depressed for the prospects of the future.
"Daria, can you concisely and unemotionally sum up for us the doctrine of Manifest Destiny?" He was surprised when Daria began talking almost immediately.
"Well, it was a sayin' used in the 1840s that meant God wanted folks to move out west and settle all the way to the Pacific Ocean and shit like that. Mexicans and Injuns didn't like this very much."
"Very good, Daria. Almost...suspiciously good." He was skeptical whenever a seemingly intelligent student showed up; most of the time, it turned out to be either a bluff or a cheat, and either way DeMartino got disappointed. So he didn't get his hopes up. "Alright, class. Who can tell me which war Manifest Destiny was used to justify?" He picked a student wearing a football uniform - pads and all. "Kevin! How about you?"
"...The Vietnam War?"
"Dumbshit," Daria muttered under her breath.
"That came a little later, Kevin...A HUNDRED YEARS later. A lot of good men died in that conflict, Kevin. I believe we OWE it to them to AT LEAST GET THE CENTURY RIGHT!"
"Uh...Operation Watergate?" Kevin tried again.
"Jesus H. Bumblefuckin' Christ," Daria muttered, a little louder.
"Daria, don't take the Lord's name in vain!" the teacher snapped.
XXXX
Daria sat in her room, fuming. During dinner, the school had called. According to her mother, the school psychological test had determined that both she and Quinn had low self-esteem (whatever the fuck that meant) and had to take after-school self-esteem classes. Daria immediately criticized the idea as shit, but her father had suggested she go to the class just once, in case she really did have low self-esteem. She had finally acquiesced to her father's request (but she vowed not to like it).
Her musings were interrupted by the doorbell. As she was the only person used to actually having a doorbell, she made her way out of her room and through the mansion. She actually arrived at the front door at the same time as her father - and their baying hound, Duke. Jake assumed the honors and opened the doors.
"Hello, I was wondering if the Morgans were in?" A black family - husband, wife, and teenage daughter - stood on the front stoop.
"Shucks, I guess that'd be me. I'm Jake Morgan," Jake introduced himself, extending his hand.
Put off by Jake's shabby-looking attire, it took a moment for the man to respond in kind. "Andrew Landon," he said, smiling. "These two beauties are my wife Michelle and my daughter Jodie. We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood."
"Dad, cut it out," Jodie protested, embarassed by the praise.
"So, you're a colored feller," Jake observed. "I ain't never met one of those before. What's that like?"
"Oh hell's fuckin' bells," Daria said, slapping her palm to her head.